


Vermilion Virtues

by Ribbonshalos



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Baihu Genji, Empress Mercy, F/M, Fluff, Gency, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Original Character(s), Romance, Sickness, Tiger Genji, Zhueque Mercy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-18
Updated: 2018-02-23
Packaged: 2019-03-20 14:45:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13719915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ribbonshalos/pseuds/Ribbonshalos
Summary: The court is silent. Angela's heart overflows with this prophecy. In the darkness of what surrounds her, a bright light bursts. The gods have listen to her prayers. The tiger is a great gift but of unknown need. There has never been attacks on the royal family, or within the capital of the kingdom for many generations, but the tiger holds pride and strength. If the gods believe the tiger is what she will need, she will not refuse them.





	1. A Gift from the Gods

**Author's Note:**

> I mean, if Blizzard is gonna give me those beautiful Gency Lunar New Year skins, I have to do something with them.
> 
> It was suppose to be a one-shot, but now there’s gonna be two more parts. Enjoy!

There is a kingdom ruled with peace. The people within the land haven’t lost their sons to war for many generations. The kind and just Emperor and Empress love their people, and keep them safe from blood thirsty kingdoms wanting war.  

In their years ruling, the Emperor and Empress have a daughter. White gold hair marks her as royalty, and she becomes the kingdom’s mercy. When Angela becomes of age, she sets to bringing blessings of health to her people.

She grows to be favored by the gods for her pure virtue. Praying and visiting upon many temples, she uses her blessings to heal those who are afflicted. She visits the far corners of the kingdom, finding the sick and injury. However, upon her return from one of her many important trips, she is greeted with the news of the Emperor’s and Empress’s death.

Illness stuck so suddenly, not even the best healers within the castle could get them through the night.

The people become afraid. The loss of their Emperor and Empress is a sign of destruction and death coming upon the kingdom. Stricken with grief, Angela sends the castle into a period of mourning. Her broken heart bleed for many lonely nights.

The burial of the Emperor and Empress is done quietly on a windy day. The grief pouring out of her eyes, and the heavy care in her chest seems endless.

After a week of Angela falling to her sorrows, the kingdom prepares for their new Empress. A period of three days is taken for the upcoming ruler to fast, pray and offer incense in the temples. She knows that her people are frighten, and that her heart is still heavy with the death of her parents, but she must take upon the crown her mother worn. Her prayers are thrown heavenward for guidance and blessings. In her heart, she only wants to bring peace and joy to her kingdom.  

Upon the day she is anointed Empress, the priests give her the vows and oils marking her as their ruler. In a dress of red, and a crown unlike any ruler’s with ornaments of green and red, she stands. The promises on her tongue lock away in her soul, and the marks on her forehead give her strength. For a moment, she feels only the comfort of her parents at her side as the crown is placed upon her head.

The Empress faces her people, and they bow to her as their new ruler. The last knee bends. The weight of her new role falls against her lungs just as a great roar shakes the castle. A tiger with black and orange stripes prowls her court. Her people panic, murmuring that the tiger is sent by the gods to kill the unworthy Empress, but she does not waver.

The tiger approaches the Empress. The terrifying beast does not cause her to tremble as the creature’s eyes seem to be sharp and colored a sepia brown. If she is to be killed to protect her kingdom, it will be done. A part of her does not fear death in this moment, knowing she will no longer be alone.

At her throne, the tiger’s eyes falls upon the Empress. The gaze cast upon her crown and staff of her statue lingers in wonder and curiosity. She doesn’t breathe for one moment. In silence, the tiger bows to the Empress.

“Empress,” the tiger speaks with the voice of a man, causing her to still, “I have been sent by the gods to give you a prophecy.”

The Empress is quiet for a moment, relieved that she is not to be eaten today.

“Rise, and speak it,” she orders, and the tiger obeys the Empress’s will.

“If you remain of absolute virtue, your kingdom will never fall to war. Upholding your nobility and elegance with a pure heart will bring you many favors from the gods.”

The tiger’s tail slips through the air like a ribbon as his unearthly gaze stays upon her.

“The gods have sent me as your warrior, Empress, but you must first accept their blessing.”

The court is silent. Angela’s heart overflows with this prophecy. In the darkness of what surrounds her, a bright light bursts. The gods have listen to her prayers. The tiger is a great gift but of unknown need. There has never been attacks on the royal family, or within the capital of the kingdom for many generations, but the tiger holds pride and strength. If the gods believe the tiger is what she will need, she will not refuse them.

“I thank you for your gift, Tiger,” she answers, making her first decision as Empress. He nods his large head, flickering his tail.

The day overflows with celebrations of meat and drink. Dances go without pause in the center of the court as the Empress takes her throne. There was once two, but she is all that remains of her parents’ work. The view of the happiness within her people stills her uncertainties. The tiger joins her at her side, laying down beside her golden chair.

“Tiger, tell me your name,” she asks over the swell of music and laughter.

“Genji,” he answers, folding his paws in front of him. He faces forward, one ear pointed to the crowd and the other to her. Listening, but watching for danger.

She tastes his name silently on her tongue.

“You will call me Angela,” she says in turn, causing the great head of the tiger to swivel and look up to her. “My true name is no longer spoken on my people’s lips, but I need to still hear it.”

The last person to call her by her name was her father.

Her reasoning must resound with the tiger, for he closes his great maw and dips his head.

“Angela,” he agrees, still watching the many faces dancing.

When the sun begins falling, the celebration closes quietly. The kingdom is happy and at ease that their Empress not only will keep the peace within their walls, but also has the favor of the gods upon her crown. The tiger is frightening, but whispers say that it is a sign of good fortune for any ruler to see a tiger.  

The tiger goes with her to her chambers, as he says he cannot part from her side least he betray his sworn duty. She agrees. There is no fear to be had from the great beast. Perhaps, his presence can keep the lonely duties away. The tiger lays at the front of her chamber doors as the Empress takes off her crown. Through her large windows, darkness finally blankets the land.

A flash of blue light blinds the Empress for a moment, startling her. The brightness fades behind her eyelids as she look to the tiger. A man takes its place.

Dressed in armor of fine, silver metal and decorated with white fur and blue cloth, the man drops to one knee. A soft blue light fades slowly along his person until he is just mortal. A helmet bares the work of a fearsome tiger, with white fur trailing down from the covering. Two swords are strapped to the man’s back, one large and the other small.

The tiger is nowhere to be seen, causing Angela to demand, “Where is my Genji?”

“I am still your Genji, Angela,” the man says, raising his helmet while still bowing before her. The same voice of rumbling water touches the shell of her ears. “I am a man now.”

Wary, Angela approaches the warrior.

“Rise,” she speaks, and he obeys. “Tell me how this is possible.”

The warrior gets to his feet. He stands strong in his armor and decorated cloth, but the helmet bares the open jaw of a tiger. It is as he was before, but human. He seems both unworldly and as real as she.

“I was once only a man, but I was struck down by my brother.” Genji begins, still as a statue and rigid with the weight of his readiness. “The gods had mercy, and saved me, but it came with a price.”

Angela steps closer, no longer off put by the man in place of the gift the gods sent her.

“In return, I was to slay any unholy men and beast alike. When the sun rises, I remain as a tiger, able to fend off strange demons and guide poor souls away from danger. When darkness falls, I become myself again, and wield a sword to those who have poisoned the land and its goodness.”

A quiet worry builds in Angela’s center at the blessed and cursed man. This gift from the gods may not be what she desires.

“Are you here against your will?” she asks softly, afraid.

“No, Angela,” the warrior voice does not hold sadness or anger, but a soft hope. “I am here because the gods have grant me another chance. If I serve a peaceful ruler for a time long enough to satisfy the gods, I will remain only as a man.”

Softly, a sigh leaves Angela’s lungs at the reassurance. She lifts her chin, looking once again over the warrior glad in great metal and a raw strength. The gods have taken so much, and gave just so in return. In the morning, she will offer prayers of gratitude at the temple.

“I will see you in the daylight upon your own mortal legs, Genji,” the Empress says as her title runs through her blood. “You have my vow.”

The warrior bows his head. He kneels again, but before she can protest this, he offers his hand. The gesture stills Angela’s beating heart. In a moment that passes so quickly, her mind questions the trembling in Genji’s hand.

Her father used to do this for her mother, but it is a gesture also used for knights swearing their lives to their king or queen.

Angela places her hand in the gloved fingers of Genji. Taking her fingers, he slowly presses the back of her hand to his helmet. The cool metal blooms across her skin, as well as the warmth of the warrior’s hand holding hers. A sworn oath made on two parts.

“My Empress,” Genji says.

“My warrior,” Angela declares.

Her fingers tighten around his for a precious second. Letting go, she holds the new, blooming warmth in her rib cage close.

She is not completely alone. The gods are blessing her still.

He stands at her door, unwavering and steady until Angela wakes in the morning light. A tiger greets her, large and frightening but holds the same aura as she knows of Genji. He prowls at her side as she greets her court on the first sunrise of her reign. Some murmur about the strange, talking tiger. They fear him, but the kingdom’s dealings go on.

Neighboring rulers come to the Empress to give gifts of goodwill. They all respected the Emperor before his death, and they kneel before the new ruler for she carries the same virtues as her father and mother. Her people are strong and capable, but her kingdom continues only in peace.

The tiger at her side watches the many commotions, sometimes flickering his long, striped tail at any man edging too close to her throne. Some of the kings or emperors ask of this blessing from the gods. Whatever fear they have of him, Angela only finds as securing.

“He is my warrior,” she answers whenever the question leaves uncertain lips. “I am worthy of his guard.”

The tiger’s ears raise slightly when she says this, but Genji does not look to her.

The darkness of nights brings the man in armor who stands still at her door. Their words are quiet and still, as to not alarm any maid passing outside her chambers. Genji tells of his family before he was struck down, but he strays away from talk of his brother. Whatever could compel a man to harm his own flesh and blood is not of Angela’s comprehension, but she cools her tongue before inquiring about cherry blossoms.

Three months after she received her crown, Angela has a nightmare. Black spots stain her parents’ skin and hair. A mysterious force keeps her from reaching to help them as the flesh melts off of their bones.

She starts with a small gasp, choking on her own breath as she stumbles out of her sheets and onto the cold wooden floor. Trembling hands cover her mouth, as if she refuses to let the truth of her visions slip from her teeth.

“Angela,” comes a voice of tumbling water. There is only the smallest sound as he comes to her, but he does not tense nor draw his sword.

“Genji,” her throat cracks like splintered wood. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“I do not see the reason for your apology.” The warrior falls quietly to one knee, still lowering himself before her.

“Why must you always do that,” she murmurs harshly before rubbing her eyes. There is still a shakiness in her breath.

“Because you are the Empress.” There is a soft hint of humor spilling into his waters.

“But you have bowed to me before, many times,” she counters, suddenly sharp. At the acknowledgement of it, Angela breathes out slowly. Once more, her lungs loosen a sigh before her shoulders relax.

“As I will continue to do,” he says.

The silver of his armor reflects the half full shine of the moon. It seems to erase the stains of darkness behind her eyelids. Not a word is spoken as Angela kneels on both legs, and folds her hand in her lap as she stares at the warrior.

“Do you know why I am a young Empress?”

Genji still kneels before her. Beside her bed, they must be quite a show, but she doesn’t want to tremble anymore. Slowly, the fur spurting from the top of his helmet tilts.

“Disease claimed the last Emperor and Empress,” he answers in a low voice, as if trying to not frighten her.

Angela nods slowly. In the moonlight, she bows her head. Grief has refused to leave her chest, and now builds up a nest of thorns and rocks that puncture her flesh whenever she dares to breathes.

Her eyelids close, humbled and defeated, before the great warrior.

She sees again when the tiniest movement sounds. Looking up, Genji reaches and places his hands on either side of his helmet. There is no sound as he lifts the decorated silver metal from his head.

A man of pale skin, and black hair looks to her. It is cut short, and ruffled in its strands, but stays heavenly. A soft aura of blue emits from the fur around his neck. Scars. Many white marks cross his skin and bones, foretelling of the work the gods had to preform to save him from death.

Her lips part at his eyes. Sepia. A light, hopeful brown. The same eyes of the tiger framed in the shape of a man.

The helmet is set aside as he offers his hand. The reveal of his true face, a feat she never thought she would see but has often imagined when looking at the tiger engraved into the metal, leaves her stunned. There is little she can do but place her hand in his.

Genji moves her fingers to his scarred, pale lips and pauses. His breath dusts her skin, and allows a moment to pull away if desired. She doesn’t. Slowly, he kisses her knuckles, bringing a strange shiver of ice and fire down her spine.

“Do you want me to stay right here, Angela?” he speaks against her hand. Her name falls down the river of his voice.

She nods, still breathless.

“Yes.”

 

*

 

Angela’s eyelashes brush against the orange and black stripes of a tiger. She lifts her head from the great body, and finds Genji tilting on ear back to her, but his maw faces the sun coming from the window. Her fingers still curl around his fur as she sits up along the curve of his side.

The man is once again cursed in the daylight. A resolve, the oath she made, burns inside of her.

He will be freed.

“Thank you, Genji,” she almost whispers, weary but no longer trembling.

His tail twitches along her bed as he turns his heavy head. Sepia irises still hold her. They are fearsome and intimidating in the frame of a great beast, but she still feels the breath of a man ghosting against her fingers.

“Morning always comes, Angela, even when we feel we’ve fallen into an eternity of darkness.”

His gaze does not waver from hers as he speaks this. The shine of hope in the tiger’s eyes lets the sun warm her face.

They rise, and the Empress goes to her throne with the tiger at her side. There is new strength in her bones. So long as she continues the peace held within her kingdom’s walls, her people will be safe, and Genji will become a man in the daylight.

Through the days of her court, they are constants. Angela listens to her people, as Genji sits beside her throne, nearly close enough to press against her legs. People ask for audience with the Empress, asking for help or telling of problems occurring in her land. When official dealings are conducted, and one of her advisers repeats nonsense, Angela will rebuke them for their ridiculousness. Those meetings finish with Genji seeming to hold his maw in a hidden smile upon her still angry cheeks. She doesn’t find it as humorous as he.

When they can steal away, Genji prowls with her to the gardens. She enjoys tending to her little herbs and flowers whose scents calm her stress of the crown just a little bit. On stone paths or grass, Genji will stretch his striped body. He lies in the sun. Her little pokes of fun for being a lazy house cat makes him grumble and growl but she isn’t the only one amused by the other’s show of anger. They hide away until someone calls for the Empress’s attention.

When Angela is delivered terrible news, she hesitates to touch Genji’s fur. They walk empty hallways, and the flooded fields or sick people fixate in her heart, she’s careful to reach out. He doesn’t flatten his ears nor move away. For precious moments, she touches the fur on his neck. The orange colors stick between her fingers for only a second until she pulls away and fixes her dress.

Genji is slow to speak about his past, but he slowly loosens his lips to Angela when the night lets him be human again. Some nights, he does not speak at all. Angela leaves him be. He rarely takes off his helmet, nor wanders from his post at her door. The quite of his voice etches emotion in the lines of his armor. She is beginning to see it now. He is patience, but there are moments when he is racked with still anger or a suffering silence.

She gives him peace. Worries also fills her that he grows bored or unsatisfied with the little work he performs besides being by her side. When she apologies for this, he shakes his helmet and the fur on top of it.

“If the gods sent  _me_  to guard you, then we should be thankful for boredom.”

When the Empress indulges in a few chocolates, he’ll enjoy them with her. He comments that the sweetness from his home is not like this. It makes her laugh, saying that her kingdom has the best chocolate.

Eight months into her reign, a messenger storms the courtyard. Angela stands as the horseman harshly huffs out that a foreign king will be arriving to her castle in the morning. The king notorious for taking many wives and storming other lands to expand his kingdom is approaching quickly. The messenger says he is here to offer a gift to the new ruler.

In the silence of the message, the Empress narrows her brow in slight anger. It stays as she orders preparations for the King and his party. Sitting back in her throne, she frowns upon the room.

“This is a rather rude entrance,” Genji mutters, flickering one ear.

“I do not like this.” Angela murmurs back, brushing a lock of hair from her face. “I fear that some kingdoms do not take me seriously because of my sudden step to the throne. Not all the kings and emperors are above manipulating an inexperience opponent.”

She hates to think so offensively, but there is very little excuse for the abrupt and sudden presence of a king in her own kingdom. It would be an outright insult in other castles.

Genji turns his head, brushing a few whiskers against the fabric of her dress.

“I could eat him before he enters your court.”

“No,” she immediately interjects. There’s a slight humor to his eyes, but she still sees the hardness in his maw. “No, Genji…”

Her thoughts circle in her head. Absentmindedly, her hand touches the fur on his neck. She pulls away before anyone can stare, but Genji still remains against her throne.

“I’ll allow him to enter my court and see if his gift compensates for his  _disruptive_  arrival,” she says.

The king arrives in the morning, but she does not bid him audience until evening dinner. She is not willing to give courtesy to a king who does not first give it back. All throughout the day, she is anxious. The evidence is made apparent by Genji’s comments on her state.

“If this is handled improperly, I will make this kingdom look weak to attack, or terribly insult a king with a fast army.”

He tilts his head. The stripes of his fur are bright in the middle of the garden as she takes out a weed perhaps a little too harshly.

“You are the Empress,” Genji says.

Angela shifts, standing in the sun. Her eyes fall upon the tiger. There is no other reason he would be here, if not for her diligence and work in keeping her kingdom safe.

She lifts her chin, “I am.”

Evening falls, and the Empress and the tiger go to her throne. She is careful with her hands tonight for she wears nail guards. Two, glittering gold claws cover her small and ring fingers. The small finger claw is as long as her hand, while the ring finger claw is half that length. A sign of her status, she holds her fingers with great elegance.

“Those claws are bigger than mine,” Genji says as the court opens to the King and his party.

“I wish I had yours tonight,” she murmurs back as the king comes before her throne.

He is an older man, rough with fading gray skin betraying his age. His once brown hair is peppered with white, and unattractive stubble marks his face. Three woman carrying his large cape behind him stop as he does before her throne. His eyes drift to Genji, narrowly viewing him. Angela keeps herself from shivering at the king’s gaze upon him.

“Your majesty,” the king rumbles in a crooked tone, before offering a small bow at the waist. Gold glitters on his shoulders and hands, while a crown of red velvet and silver adorns his head. Just as armed for battle as she.

Angela stands and dips her chin only slightly in return for his bow.

“King Lucas,” she addresses. Her court and his party fall silent at her voice. “I hope that your unannounced arrival bears great meaning.” Polite, but not withholding her sharp questioning of his rudeness.

“I reassure you, Empress, my sudden visit is of great importance.”

Genji’s tail whips across the ground, but his teeth remain in his jaw.

“I have come with an offering for the majestic, beautiful ruler.” His praise feels like ice against her throat. “You are a great and wise woman. Even this tiger at your throne speaks of your divine will and bravery.”

The tiger’s gaze fixates upon the king. He blinks only once in expectation. Genji does not satisfy him, and he looks back to his own party of guards and servants in disappointment.  

“The gods gave you a speaking tiger, but I must say, it does not have many words.” The king’s crooked smile wants Angela’s lips to curl, but she keeps face. 

“The same respect will be given to the tiger as it is given to me,” she says.

A hard stare falls upon her from the king.

“Of course, your majesty,” he offers easily. He does not sense the raised hackles on Genji’s back as Angela does. “But this is not what I wish to discuss with you.”

He pushes back his cape, stepper closer to her throne. A growl from Genji stops him quickly, but his focus is only upon the jeweled crown decorating Angela’s hair.

“I wish to make an alliance between your kingdoms and I’s with our marriage.”

Angela’s eyes widen for only the slightest moment before she steels her expression. Another growl slips from Genji as he stands beside her. Her court murmurs and whispers, angry and unimpressed.

“It would benefit both our kingdoms, and as you are without a husband, I will provide for you,” he soothes in his crooked tone, “There are riches and more power beyond your comprehension, Empress. You must see the wisdom in our shared kingdoms.”

Her expression is a hard mask, unmoving as the king’s crooked smile faces her. Moving her head slowly, as if on a swivel, she surveys the room. Her people stand with anger and disgust at the king and his proposition to their Empress. She does not require the help of any ruler, especially of this self-important man. Marrying into a blood lustful kingdom will break her vows to her own people, as well as to the gods and Genji.

“King Lucas,” she speaks, earning his raised brow. There is a surety trembling throughout her frame that makes her voice raise volumes, but still hold elegance.

“It is not wise to take my youth as foolish and incautious.”

The king’s brow narrows, clearly displeased but he keeps the crookedness of his mouth set firmly. Genji’s presence beside her is steady as she continues.

“I reject your proposal.”

The people in the king’s party shift uneasily. Her own court holds tension upon a wire.

“I see…” he looks to Genji, before shifting back to her crown. “I don’t believe you can afford to, your majesty. You see… I get what I desire, but sometimes there’s a fuss about it.”

Genji steps before her, placing his striped feline form as a barrier between her and the king.

“I will devour you if you speak one more word against the Empress,” he snarls, booming his voice against the walls of her court.

The king’s face becomes even paler, but Angela is just as disturbed. He has many resources, and to outright kill the king will bring harsh consequences. His bold threat lingers in her castle. This crooked man is determined to make another wife out of her, unrelenting, and willing to fight.

Her hand and her gold nail guards touch the side of Genji’s fur. The fur ripples for a moment before one ear turns to face her.

The gods promised her favor if she keeps her virtue and the kingdom’s peace. They can’t deny her obedience.

“King Lucas,” she calls once again. “I will make a deal with you.”

Every soul focused on the Empress, even Genji turns to look to her. Sepia irises framed in orange are set hard in concern.

“If you can best one of my warriors in a duel, you will have my hand in marriage.” 

There is absolute silence as the king clasps his hands together in tasted victory. Genji’s tail twitches, and she allows a moment to hold his gaze.

“If you lose, you will create a peace treaty, and never allow your presence in my kingdom ever again.”

The king lifts his chin, grinning madly. The court and his party watch in stunned silence.

“I will take your deal, Empress. But,” he holds up his hand, palm stopping her next words, “I will only allow this duel if, when bested, the winner will slay the defeated. You will find that I am still strong in battle as ever.”

Silent rage touches upon the Empress’s blue eyes.

“No death will stain my castle.”

The grin of madness doesn’t leave his mouth.

“Then we don’t have a deal, Empress.”

His insistence of such a gruesome victory makes her insides curl. Fury claws at her tongue, longing to jump out but she steels her expression. She looks to the tiger. Genji dips his head to her, accepting her deal as well. A soft breath leaves her lungs in the comfort of his service. Her chin raises. The king looks back.

“The duel will take place after sunset.” The Empress hardens her brow. “Prepare yourself, King.”


	2. Of Ice and Cherry Blossoms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genji defends the Empress's Hand

The Empress and the tiger walk to her personal chambers. All too quickly and all too slowly, the sun sets, and Genji kneels before her in his armor.

“You can refuse this, Genji,” Angela speaks gently, “The king is a strong opponent, and I will ask for a champion among my own guard.”

“You do not know my skill, Angela.” Even as his eyes are hidden, and a strange fog of breath fills the air before his face plate, his confidence is tangible.

“I will defend your hand from ever holding a twisted ring belonging to that king.” There is steel among the cool determination.

The Empress knows he is a warrior, capable of taking on much greater opponents, but there is worry in her chest.

“Genji.”

“Yes, my Empress.”

She pauses, but not to rebuke him for the formal address.

“Swear that you will not kill him.”

The silver helmet tilts, as if mimicking the confusion of a big feline.

“Swear it,” Angela presses, unable to stand the thought of such bloodshed orchestrated within her own castle walls. “Please.”

His sword has undoubtedly taken lives, and been stained with more blood then she cares to know, but he extends his hand. She takes it. Reassurance touches her chest as the cool metal of his helm presses to her hand.

“I swear, Angela,” he says.

The court is abuzz, mostly with sharp stares and harsh words towards the king who dares to wed their Empress. The challenger himself is at ease, and drinks as a server polishes his sword. When the Empress enters, and a man in silver armor and white fur follows at her side, silence gazes falls onto her mysterious warrior.

She stands before her throne, but does not sit down. Genji is unwavering at her side, and the tiger craved into his helmet seems to bare its fangs to the king before them.

“Are you ready, King Lucas?” she calls. The center of her court is bare, open for the duel.

He stands, and takes a heavy sword with a multitude of tiny diamonds shining in its hilt. The king stares sharply upon Genji, suspicious, but focuses on the task at hand.

“I am, beautiful Empress. I hope that your chosen man is worthy of serving you,” he speaks with a crooked grin, but Angela does not give in to disgust. 

“Remember our deal, King,” she reminds carefully. Faith in Genji swells in her heart as he steps forward, away from her throne. The fur upon his helmet moves softly in the air. He draws his sword with a steady strength. Walking forward, the King meets her warrior in the center of the court. No one speaks. No one breathes.

She prays to the gods for his safety. The man whose breath still ghosts against her knuckles where his kiss had press. A revelation that now makes her lungs shudder silently.

The Empress raises her chin.

“Begin.”

A slow dance commences. The two warriors circle each other, eyeing the others footwork and judging their swiftness and balance. The king feints a strike forward. Genji raises his sword for a block but never receives it. His shoulders are low, and his stance wide and strong. A great beast circling prey.

The dance ends as the king slashes forward, Genji blocks the sword before swiftly following with a blow. They lock into steel blades clashing and light feet moving, seeking an opening.

Angela holds steady. As crooked as the king is, Genji won’t allow his victory over him.

The men begin using more thrust and power. The king shouts as he lunges, looking for a weakness in Genji’s stance to strike through. There is little error for her warrior, and he restrains from cutting the King down. Grunts of effort begin echoing in the court. Genji’s blade holds deadly at the king’s gleaming eyes.

Genji’s foot kicks the king back after they part swords. The ruffled hair under the king’s crown grows wilder as his eyes become like a blood thirsty animal. He shouts, charging for her warrior with rage. Angela presses a hand to her heart. They clash with a sharp ring of metal and grunts.

The king furiously strikes down upon Genji, and he bares the attacks with careful blocks and deflects. This angers the greedy man even more so. Throwing all of his energy into another blow of his sword, Genji raises his sword to meet him.

They lock blades.

Angela breathes out.

Genji presses down, forcing the king to angle his blade upwards to prevent the blue glowing steel to cut his shoulder. Her warrior keeps pushing against the king. The king yells in anger.

Genji is silent. His body is only tense muscle and calm balance as his strength folds the king’s knees. He barely holds his sword now, until Genji suddenly lifts his blade.

The king falls forward, still using all of his strength to push back but no longer having an opposing force. In one swift movement, Genji cuts into the king’s arm. Recoiling, the crooked man lets go of his sword. Genji’s foot slides it back to where Angela’s throne is.

The tip of his blue sword points to the king’s throat as he lifts his askew crown upon his head.

“Yield,” Genji speaks. A small tilt of his head looks to Angela, a question poised in the metal. She nods softly, still not wanting death in her castle. 

The king scoffs, laughing.

“This is a fight to the death, boy,” he sneers, unafraid of the sword pointed at his throat.

Genji does not shift his stance in the slightest. The fur upon his helmet wavers in the air as he looks back to the king.

“Yield to the Empress,  _King_ ,” he twists his name upon his tongue like poison. Angela’s heart still pounds against her ribs, but she slows her breath as the king slowly rises to his knees. The sword tip carefully keeps up with his throat. A hateful glare falls from his eyes upon her warrior.

“Your warrior wins, Your Majesty,” it could almost be a jeer if not for the cover of formality.

“You will sign our peace treaty, and then you will leave,” Angela speaks, motioning forward a servant already prepared with papers.

Genji leaves the king on his knees. Coming to her throne, her shoulders loosen as he kneels before her. The tiger snarling upon his helmet looks only upon her feet. If they were in her room, and not upon the eyes of the people, she would ask to see his face.

His shoulders move with heavy breath. The blue sword lies in front of him, presented only at her use. The court’s eyes watch as her warrior takes her left hand. Pressing her ring finger to his helmet, she rejoices that a foreign wedding band will not be placed upon it.

“Well done, Genji,” she whispers for only him.

His head lifts, and although he is hidden, she senses his pride and smile.

Her servant comes back to her, and the king’s heavy inked name upon its promises. She takes them, and watches a trembling servant retrieve the king’s diamond sword. He stands, fixing his crown as he looks to the Empress.

“You would have made a fine wife,” he declares, before turning to his party and exiting her court.

A short burst of anger touches her brow before she beckons Genji to stand. He takes his place at her side as she presents her warrior. The court cheers for the Empress and the mysterious man of silver armor and white fur. Their kingdom stays their own.

* * *

The morning after, Angela goes to the temple. There is pride in her veins and joy in her heart. Her feats of keeping a king from her lands while still upholding peace is still bright in her mind’s eye. Genji waits outside the great doors, guarding the entrance with orange and black stripes in the daylight. Her prayers of gratitude go out the gods for sending her Genji and for blessing her with strength and wisdom.

When her eyes open, upon the altar rests a single, vermilion feather. The Empress is slow to take the brilliant red in her hands but finds the feather soft as silk. A single green dot marks the end of it. She looks to the ceiling of the temple, wondering what gift this could be from the gods.

She stands, and tucks it carefully into her looped, white gold hair.

Exiting the temple, Genji’s tail swishes through the air as she reaches him. His gaze looks over the feather once, but says nothing. She is glad, for she doesn’t dare speak of it outside of the temple or her own chambers.

“Come, my warrior,” she touches his fur for just one moment as he comes to her side. “Let’s go to the garden before I am needed once again.”

They spend their little time in the sun gratefully until a servant calls her attention to the court. In a rush of her duty, night falls and they find themselves alone in peace. The blue light turns Genji back into a man.

“That feather,” he says, lifting his head to view it still in the loops of her hair. “You came out of the temple with it.”

“I did,” she answers, reaching her hand to her hair. “When I finished praying, it was upon the altar. I assume it’s a gift from the gods.”

She catches the silk feather between her fingers, but it’s entangles in her hair. Frowning, she lifts her other hand but Genji steps closer. Rivers and steel fall off of his person, calming her senses as he reaches carefully. Finger fingers brush against her hair and skull. One small tug, and it’s free.

Genji steps back, holding the feather out but Angela takes back the distance. It is not of a warrior or an empress serving each other, but a man and woman. Chest to chest, Genji’s helmet looks to her.

The small spot in her heart has grown too fond of her warrior. In the heat of battle, he obeyed her wish when he had every right to cut down such a crooked king. Hand kisses and coming to her on one knee for help have whittle down what strongholds she had protecting her fragile rib cage. Her name upon his lips is the only echo of her true self.

Slowly, giving him time to step away, to stop this, she places her palms on either side of the cool steel. She lifts his helmet gently, unveiling the man sworn to her life. Scars and pale skin still hold the beauty she can handle dare to speak of without breaking her voice. Eyes of hopeful, light sepia hold her gently as she turns away to set the helmet down. Genji sets the feather carefully beside it.

“Angela,” he murmurs as his hand hover by her waist, “I cannot be like this always. I am still afflicted by the gods.”

The reluctance, the carefulness of which he speaks makes her eyelids tremble. Breathing in softly, Angela cups his cheek. The soft bumps of scar tissue warms her palm.

“I know, and I swore I would not rest until you are completely human again.”

He leans into her touch, ghosting a breath into her fingers as his hand comes to rest against hers. For one scarce moment, he closes his eyes in vulnerability.

“Genji, you are my warrior,” she speaks only to him, but the gods will take her declaration whether they approval of it or not.

“You are my Genji.” Her whisper hovers against his lips. His arm wraps gently around her waist, bringing her close enough that the fur decorating his shoulders tickles her neck. A cool thumb brushes her cheek as she rises to her tiptoes.

There’s one, small pause, where the energy between their lips buzz like lightning before striking. In that moment, he is not the scars or beast or warrior. The scents of rivers and metal coming off his person holds her steady. The gentle touch of his fingers caressing her cheek are sure.

He is hers.

Her love.

He tastes like ice and cherry blossoms. There’s a careful hold as their lips press together, gentle but still desperate. Somehow, they long even more for the other person. She moans softly against his lips, causing his arm to press her tightly against his chest. There will be no more separation tonight. Her fingers brush through the blackness of his hair, enjoying the gentle press of his lips. She can’t seem to hold him enough.

“Angela,” he murmurs against the corner of her mouth.

His. She is his.

“My Genji,” she breathes into a kiss.

* * *

He lies in the sun beside the open window when she wakes. Brushing her hair from her eyes, she slips out of bed to see sepia irises wrapped in the form of a great cat. He is still when she kneels beside him, but his tail flickers uncertainly.

“I meant every word I spoke to you last night, Genji,” she says softly.

He breathes quietly for a moment, shifting his ears slowly.

“I know. This is just unbecoming for me.”

Angela knits her brow in hidden concern. She can’t say she knows what it’s like to be inhuman, but she does feel his impatience.

“I’ve been praying to the gods for you. I believe that they will bless you soon.”

His great maw shakes open at that. Genji has never had a particular dislike nor favor for the gods, only a simple tolerance. The faith she has in the divine beings watching over them is enough to share with him. She’s certain of it.

“Until then, I want to do my best to make you comfortable,” Angela says, causing his ears to flicker to her before his whiskers face her again.

“What is okay—when you are in this form?” she gestures, attempting to word it as properly as possible.

He holds her gaze for a moment, before looking to the window. The light brightens the orange of his fur.

“The little touches you’ve done before, I don’t mind that,” he starts slowly.

The rare times when eyes haven’t been upon them, and her fingers clutched the fur on his neck were of comfort to her. It lightens her heart to know he does not find it negative.

“Alright,” she nods, “What else?”

He turns back to her, opening his maw.

“No petting. Before I came here, to you, I would have bit off anyone’s hand who would have tried. It’s dehumanizing,” he explains, narrowing his eyes with displeasure at the thought.

“Goodness, Genji, of course,” she quickly reassures. Even when she thought he was a divine creature sent by the gods, she never thought of running her hand down his striped head like a pet.

He looks to her, still measuring her expressions careful. A careful hope lies in his eyes. Fear also dwells within her warrior.

“Genji?”

“Yes, my Empress.”

She gives him a sharp look at that, but the tiger has the gall to look sheepish at his formal address. Breathing out softly for a moment, she collects her thoughts.

“Tell me if this is alright,” she says careful, reaching both hands forward.

He stills as her fingers takes the tiger’s great jaw. Slowly, she leans forward, watching his expression as she keeps her hands against warm fur. When he does not fear, or edge away, she closes her eyes. Angela bows her head, and rests her forehead against Genji’s. In the morning sunlight, the empress and tiger keep still as they touch. Deep, rumbling breaths comes from his maw, and her own must be brushing against his fur. In that moment, she swears she smells rivers and steel.

“You are still my Genji,” she murmurs.

The tiger grumbles, something of a deep growl and breath. His jaw moves under her hands.

“Angela,” he says, “You are too beautiful to not hold now, but I can’t.”

A quiet laugh leaves her lips to touch against his head. She pulls away gently, looking now to the concern in his eyes.

“We will both be waiting for the sun to set then,” she says, rising to her feet.

Another grumbling growl shakes his fur, making Angela smile at the impatience radiating throughout the fearsome beast. He gets to his paws, and prowls after her to the door. As she pulls at the handle, Genji’s tail waves quietly in the air. The very tip seems to be only white with a single black stripe cutting through it. This gives her pause as she thought his tail end was orange.

She can’t stop to study Genji’s fur as her maidens flood inside her chambers to prepare the Empress for the day.

She performs her duties, keeping her people safe and cared for. The kingdom stays peaceful with its neighboring kings and emperors. All the while, Genji stays at her side. Earning the people’s respect and fear, no one approaches her without facing the tiger sent by the gods. Some in the court whisper that the tiger was her champion, and becomes human only when the Empress needs the beast to be. Other hushed stories tell of a god himself coming to defend their virtuous ruler from such a greedy man.

The stories cause Angela to smile, and Genji to flicker his ears in thought.

To continue as she once did before the death of her parents, the Empress begins touring her cities and towns far from the capital. It is best to see their conditions in person, and meet her citizens. Genji is as excited as she to travel outside. It’s been ages since she’s been out tending to her people. Upon a horse, and Genji’s quick pace alongside, her guard and company take to their travels.

Angela meets with the leaders of these towns, seeing to the environment and people’s wellbeing. When they make a stop in a city, many flood to see the Empress and the tiger at her side. People kneel before her, telling of their troubles and asking for her help. Angela orders guards to be sent from her castle to cities with terrible theft and violence. In the smaller towns where food is difficult to find and work even more so, she commands farms to be plotted and field tenders to be scouted from the very same town.

Amazingly, Genji does not find it difficult to keep pace with the fast horses. She worries about him upon her own horse, but he finds the running exhilarating. Much more exciting than watching her dull court, he confesses with a sly look in his sepia irises. She scoffs at that, but hides her true grin.

At night, when an inn is nearby or they must put up a tent, Genji stands ready. When she comments on his rigid state, he merely states that it’s much more open to attack then her fortified castle.

“I don’t believe my own people want to attack me, Genji,” she says.          

“No, but you don’t really know what anyone is capable of until it’s too late,” he replies lowly.

She doesn’t press him again.

After leaving a fair city, the people kind and in need of a new well, Angela sends messengers to the castle to order builders to help their dilemma. A forest path stretches between the towns, only two days ride, but it will mean spending a night in the trees. The thought of being under leaves and shade makes Angela loosen her shoulders, but Genji’s tail swishes in anticipation.

They settle the first night, and when Genji is human, they slip out of her tent. The captain’s guard stops the Empress before she reassures him that their presence is not needed. She has her warrior, and although the guard are wary at the sight of his silver armor and white decorate fur, they are alone when they go between the trees.

A little stream trickles just out of earshot of the camp. There, they spare a few precious moments to kiss cheeks and lips in the night. The water is cool on their tongues, and Angela drinks from her own cup that Genji sips from as well. For a moment, as fulfilling and adventurous as the tour has been, it is calmly to simply lean into his embrace.

“How are you so kind and just,” he murmurs as his fingers stroke down her spine. “How does one person become so angelic?”

She laughs quietly against his shoulder. Patting the white fur down, she finds a weak spot on his neck to press her lips to. He hums softly, making her smile against his throat.

“My people, my kingdom, need this,” she says, “I only follow in my parents’ stead.”

A kiss presses into her hair. The tender tracers of his fingers are light against her back, causing shivers.

“You are exceptional, my Empress,” he whispers against her.

“Genji,” she rebukes, looking up to his soft grin.

“Angela,” he corrects himself lightly, making her roll her eyes but press her cheek against his neck.

He doesn’t know the comfort that he speaks to her, but she holds it closely.

“Excuse me,” a frail voice speaks, causing Genji and Angela to both jump. Startled, they get to their feet as Genji draws his sword. Blush stains her cheeks for one moment.

“I am terribly hungry,” an old woman says. Just across the stream in the darkness, a hood covers her head. Her hunched form seems even more weak then her voice.

“Please, do you have any bread to spare?” she asks.

“Lady,” Angela addresses, settling her own heart as she places a hand on Genji’s arm. He lowers his sword slowly, but does not take his gaze off the old woman. “There is plenty of food at our camp. If you will come with us, you will be fed well.”

The old woman shakes her hood.

“No, it is hard for me to walk. Will you fetch it for me?” she asks again, frail but holding a graceful wisdom.

Genji steps forward.

“You will not speak to the—”

Angela squeezes Genji’s arm once more, “it is alright.”

He looks to her, free of his helmet she can see the tightness holding the color of his eyes.

“I will return,” she looks to Genji, “stay here with this woman.”

“Angela,” he strains, torn between the elderly woman and the Empress. Protective.

“Genji,” she reassures, “I will be back quickly.”

She turns, and swiftly walks to camp. The guards on duty jump to their feet at her presence, but she orders them to stay as she takes bread, a block of cheese, and two apples from their supplies. Leaving behind the camp once again, Angela returns to Genji’s steady stance and the old lady still standing hunched across the stream.

He frees one hand from the hilt of his sword to brush his fingers against her arm. She nods gently to him, holding a smile as she looks across the stream.

“Young woman, will you cross the stream to give me the food?”

“I can,” Genji says, sheathing his sword while keeping one eye on the old woman. He reaches for the food in her arms when the elderly woman interrupts.

“I wasn’t speaking to you, warrior,” she says sharply. “I asked for the young woman.”

She stills for a moment, listening to the quiet of the woods and looking to the harmless form of the old woman. No strange energy lingers in her chest. The anger narrowing his brow causes Angela to step forward. Genji comes between her and the stream, both his hands taking her arms.

“Something is off,” he speaks lowly to her, “Let me take the food.”

Weighing the bread, cheese and apples in her arms, Angela looks back to the elderly woman. Her hunched back and weak voice still speak of help. The stream is not deep, nor does it flow heavily. Her gaze slowly goes back to the brown irises of her warrior.

“It will be alright,” she reassures quietly, “I must serve my people.”

Leaning up on her toes, she kisses his cheek.  

“Will you take my shoes off?” she murmurs into his ear.

His brow remains hard, defensive upon the elderly woman but he kneels in front of her. Gently, he holds her ankle as she lifts her foot, slipping the shoe off. She holds steady with the food in her arms, and Genji’s touch against her bare skin. His hands slip the other shoe off. Her toes press into the dirt beside the bank of the quietly tumbling stream. Stepping into the water, she smiles once again in reassurance at her warrior as she goes forward with faith.

The cold water shocks her skin, but she continues through the little stream to the other side of the bank. A ring of metal tells of Genji taking his sword once again, but Angela doesn’t look back. His worry lightens her heart.

At the other side of the river, her feet freeze with the cold liquid running against her skin. It is almost painful, but she hands the bread, the block of cheese, and two apples to the elderly woman. Wrinkle, dark colored skin takes them and slips them into a sack hanging on her side. When the old woman raises her hooded head, an eyepatch covers her right eye.

“I have nothing to give in return but this, young woman,” the old lady speaks, taking a wrapped piece of cloth from her bag.

“You don’t have to repay me, lady,” Angela says before the cloth is all but shoved into her arms.

“Take it,” the elderly woman orders, “You have earned it.”

The cloth is as light as air, but a faint impression gives way to something hidden in the folds of the plain white fabric. She looks to it for a moment before lifting her head.

“Lady, do you need anymore—” Angela cuts herself off when she finds the elderly woman gone. Simply vanished.

“Angela,” Genji says, voice tight with anticipation.

For a moment, she is stunned. It is nearly impossible to not have heard the elderly woman walking away, or her pace to be so quick. Turning around, Angela still stands in the cold stream as she unfolds the cloth. Her breath holds in her lungs when she upholds a feather to Genji.

Vermilion, but a slightly different hue. Genji’s sword lowers, and his expression becomes tight like hers. She crosses back to him, her feet as cold as ice. The numbness of her toes can’t distract from the gift given by the gods. She tucks the vermilion feather into her looped blonde hair besides the first one.

A thousand questions wait on both of their tongues, but Genji only takes her hand in his. His gaze turns sharp as his fingers tug a lock of her hair free.

“Your hair,” he says as she views the strand he gently tugs at. Her brow narrows in puzzlement. 

Between locks of white gold, a lone fragment of black streaks through her hair.


	3. Trials of Black and White

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gods test the virtuous Empress.

The tour ends, and her kingdom is still well in her mind and taken care of. After weeks of traveling on horseback and sleeping in tents and inns, there’s a renewed softness to her bed. Genji seems relaxed now that they’re back in the castle walls, but he is also looser. There’s lighter movement when he trots by her side or gives lazy flickers of his tail.

When the night gives her back the man in silver armor, he touches the new feather in her hair, along with the lock of raven.

“Should you be wearing those feathers?” he asks softly.

“I don’t know,” she says, holding her hands against his chest, “but the gods are testing me. These feathers are something more. I don’t dare let them out of my sights.”

He hums a displeased note.

“There is no need to test you,” he states firmly, causing Angela to part her lips.

“I still have a duty to my people, and my promise to you,” she says. A quiet pause passes as his fingers trace her cheekbones. “There is every reason to test me.”

“But I know you,” he whispers, ghosting his fingertips beside the corner of her mouth. “You are more virtuous then any soul walking this earth. “

Angela takes his hand, and presses his fingertips to her lips. Closing her eyes, she lets his warmth spread throughout her mouth and cheeks.

“I am still trying to be just that,” she murmurs against his skin.

They go to her court, and Genji’s tail brushes against her legs as she sits upon her throne. An adviser sets forward, speaking about rumors of war coming from another kingdom far to the east beside the ocean. Angela listens, knowing that they have always had unsteady relations with the other kingdom for many years over trading routes and pricing, but no bloodshed has ever been spilt over it.

“I won’t sent soldiers to the east cities,” the Empress states, “We do not want to imply that we are readying for war upon them, but do increase the guards around meeting halls and watch towers. I’ll need to know if anything does happen, and protect my people.”

The court obeys her orders. She ponders this knowledge, going over it roughly in her mind before dismissing her court. When the last adviser leaves, Angela’s fingers touch Genji’s fur.

“You are awfully trusting,” he turns his great head, tilting his ears slightly. “Are you not worried?”

“There has always been tensions with that kingdom,” Angela says, but her brow is furrowed. “It is best to not stoke cooling embers if one wants the fire to die. We’ll work out trades eventually.”

The tiger doesn’t smile, but she feels the essence of it as his whiskers touch her legs.

“Your majesty!” a great booming voice feels her court, immediately drawing the Empress’s attention to the center of the room. There stands a tall, burly man of thick stature. A head and beard of white, the enthusiasm in his voice betrays his true age. A scar cuts over his left eye, leaving the orb cloudy and blind. Genji’s ears flatten against his skull, both somehow missing a door opening and this man’s entrance.

“I have dismissed the court,” she speaks, “If you request audience, you will need to wait until—”

“Ah, I am not part of the court, your majesty!”        

Genji gets to his feet as Angela does. He prowls between her and the large man, but he carries no weapons, only wears thick, massive plates of armor upon his person.

“Who are you?” Angela demands firmly, but keeps carefully watch on his lumbering form. He is taller than Genji when he is human, and there is no doubt of his strength behind the armor.

“A warrior, like that tiger you have there,” he grins, gesturing to Genji as a growl echoes from his maw. “You are one as well, Empress, but you have yet to lead your men into battle!”

The joyous strain of his voice bounces off the walls, giving Angela pause at his giant grin and intimidating armor.

“I pray to never have to,” she says, softening her gaze, “I do not wish to thrust that upon the mothers of my kingdom.”

“Ah, but you will have the honor of winning wars and battles. The courage of being an Empress of great power and strength!” the large man boasts. “Your men will come home heroes, and have the glory of their armor and swords upon their mantles!”

Angela’s eyes fall to the tiger in front of her, tense but steady. The image of his fur stained with blood, or his sword baring her enemies’ lives squeezes the ribs in her chest. The same fate could fall upon him.

“There is no glory in needless violence and death.” The Empress lifts her chin, gazing down upon the white hair of the man. “How can I hold honor at bringing home boxes to widows and mothers with no sons? I cannot send my warriors to battle without an inexcusable cause only to be cut down in my name’s sake.”

Silence echoes after her voice. The large man’s grin fades into something heavy.

“What is an inexcusable cause?” he asks.

Genji’s one ear twitches towards her, but he keeps facing the armored warrior.

“In defense, or protection of my people’s homes and well being. I will never strike first, unless my own people or rights were violated grossly. Bloodshed is not what I seek, nor the title of a blood knight.”

“You would go to war—for your people?” his booming voice somehow speaks gently.

It would be the last choice between keeping her people safe and keeping the peace. Choosing to go to war would break her promise to Genji. It would break many vows she made to herself, but if her land and her people would suffer at not fighting back, she would don her armor and lead her warriors in a heartbeat.

There is little hesitance when the Empress answers, “Yes.”

The corner of Genji’s sepia irises glance to her carefully. She looks back, finding herself holding taller before the armored man. His grin returns in full force.

“I can see that you will not be persuaded, and you are steady in your dealings.” He takes a sheathed sword from his hip. The hilt sparkles with gold and rubies. The tip of Genji’s white tail wavers as the large man kneels before her.

“You allowed me to speak, Empress. I will give you a gift in turn.”

Leaving the leather sheath upon the ground, the large, armored man stands, and thumps one fist over his heart. Angela nods to his gift. Somehow, he quietly turns and leaves her court in his plates of armor. The moment the door shuts behind him, Angela breathes out.

Genji turns back to her but not look at her crown or dress. The set of his maw is different. His tail swishes as if agitated. Knowing the energy radiating from him, the Empress kneels beside the tiger.

“You love the people in your kingdom,” he speaks, finally giving her his gaze. It is a sad but understanding light in his irises that breaks her heart.

“I do, just as I love you,” she says, folding her hands in her lap. “Do you still believe that?”

The tiger’s head falls. The stripes running down his back slowly move as he comes closer. The fur of his head bumps gently into her shoulder as her hands slip around his neck. His breaths move through the fabric of her dress, heavy and strong as she feels her warrior’s faith in her.

“I do.” He murmurs against her shoulder.

A terrible need of his human arms and cheeks crushes her chest. It is her curse as much as it is his now. His fur is soft, and her fingers clutch it tightly but it is not his dark hair upon his head. He can’t move to hold her back. His maw cannot hold his real expression.

“I’m sorry, Genji,” she breathes against him.

His head shakes gently, before he pulls away. Once again, she feels the essence of a smile upon his heavy jaw. .

“I can’t explain how comforting it is to simply know you. My Empress,” he breathes softly, flickering his tail with renew vigor. “You keep saving me.”

“Genji,” she murmurs, lifting her head as well. Her lips part again but there is little she can find upon her tongue.

“It’s alright,” he touches his noise to her shoulder again before trotting halfway down the steps of her throne. “Come, let us see that strange man’s gift.”

The light in his sepia irises comes alive again, hopeful. Her own heart swells as she gets to her feet, and follows her warrior to the sword sheath upon the ground. Taking his words carefully, Angela tucks them into the folds of her rib cage.

Genji circles the sword, watching as she kneels before it. It is a beautiful sword, but nothing she would ever hold in her own hands.

“Let’s see the quality of the blade,” he says, more interested in the weapon than she. His own blades seem greater than this, but those are her own thoughts.

“I could never use this,” Angela shakes her head as she takes the hilt and unsheathes it, but it falls to ash in her palms. Gasping quietly, the sudden shift of heavy metal to light dust stills her. It slowly fades away before her eyes as a vermilion feather manifests upon her palm. Pinching it between her fingers, the slightest different hue of red holds up to Genji’s eyes with a hard look of uncertainty.

“Another feather from a god,” Genji says, displeased as she carefully tucks it into the loops of her blonde hair.

“Another gift,” she agrees.

* * *

Her hair is down and unkempt when she wakes up in the morning. Sitting up, and pushing it out of her eyes, she smiles at the tiger laying in the sunlight. The grin upon her features slips away just as sepia irises widen upon her.

Upon the hind legs of Genji’s striped coat, a white stain seems to have overtaken his orange color. Black strips still remain, but it seems the orange of the tiger is being overtaken by the pale shade.

“Angela,” Genji gets to his paws, immediately coming to her bedside. The Empress slips out of bed, kneeling before the tiger as her stare stays on his backside.

“Genji—”

“Angela, your hair is dark,” his ears are angled sharply just as Angela curls her fingers in the scruff around his neck.

“What?” she says, “What do you mean—Genji, you’re turning white!”

Now the tiger is the one confused. Turning his head and arching his back, the white color is new to him too. His ears fall flat against his skull as he turns back to her.

“Look,” he says, swiping one paw in the direction of her mirror.

Getting to her feet, her gaze lingers on his discolored fur before stepping to the mirror. Her thoughts are far from what Genji wants to her see. The silver reflection sits softly on a table, and she angels it towards her head.

Her locks still frame her face but among the blonde strands, dozens of thin raven streaks stain her hair. Black among white gold. The feathers resting beside her crown still remain as her eyes slip to the vermilion color.

Twirling a black bang around her finger, she turns to Genji’s unreadable gaze.

“You can’t wear those feathers anymore,” he says, pawing closer to her. The white upon his back is still strange to her eyes. His black and white striped tail whips through the air in harsh agitation.

“Genji, whatever this is, it’s by the gods’ doings.” Her hand drops the black lock, letting it fall back against her cheek. A heavy set to her brow betrays her worries for Genji more than herself. “I must go to the temple.”

“Wait,” he steps in front of her, causing her to kneel to be eye to eye. “This might not be just the feathers…”

His voice drops low when he says, “I’ve never been close to someone for a long time like  _this_. My curse might be affecting you too—”

“No,” she immediately says, taking his maw in her hands. “No, Genji, I know that’s not true.”

“You don’t though,” he presses, suddenly sharp. “I can’t ask you to take upon my affliction just to save me.”

The thought stops her still. The gods have never been clear about their intentions. In order to give Genji back his humanity, she may have to take his curse from him, and upon herself.

She doesn’t let go of his maw.

“I don’t believe that’s how it work,” she says softly. She has to put her faith in that. 

“What else could your hair changing color mean but this? And my own fur is turning white.” His words rumble against her palms. “Angela…”

A heaviness settles in her chest. Looking over the strange color of his stripes, she breathes out slowly.

“Do you feel alright?”

He moves, bumping his head into her shoulder for one calming moment.

“I’m fine. I’m worried about you.”

Her lips tug upwards tiredly, “As am I.”

Her maidens come, confused about her duo colored hair but still leave space in the looped locks for her feathers. Genji’s gaze hardens at the vermilion feathers, but he silently walks beside her as she goes to the temple.

A strange impression touches her mind before she passes the arch leading inwards.

“Come inside with me, Genji,” she breathes before he can settle down. Always he had waited outside in previous visits, but now, he only dips his head once before accompanying her.

Before the altar, she kneels. Even as the head of her kingdom, and revered herself, she still respects the gods. They rarely intervene directly, but blessings and soft guidance will take a ruler a long way. Genji is behind her, being respectable as well by silently bowing his head.  

The Empress finishes her silent pray in her mind. A suffocating silence seems to take up the air. Quiet, starteling energy burns in her bones.

She turns head, looking to Genji’s own angled ears and focused eyes.

He feels it, too.

Her lips part, ready to say his name when black smoke cascades down the altar. It chills her skin the moment it touches it, causing Angela to jump to her feet. Backing up, Genji dashes madly in front of her just as the smoke billows upwards before once again falling away.

A powerful god remains in its wake. Looking down upon her, the god of dark skin and wavering smoke seems to have red irises of blood. He glances to Genji for only a moment, returning to Angela’s wide eyes and clutched hands.

“Empress,” the god greets in a voice of gravel and bass. “You have been shaming me.”

The god of death confronts her. Whatever impression she had before was wrong to bring Genji with her. He is not kind, but does justify his actions with cruel revenge. She never entertained his title, nor dared to invite his presence. Of all the rulers in this land, she knows him the least.

“Do you seek my life?” she finds her voice barely keeping it steady in her trembling form. Genji’s maw widens, baring fangs to the powerful deity. Every fiber of her being wishes to shield him away from the god’s sights.

“Your life is nothing if not my tool,” he says, still cutting her down with his heavy stare upon the altar. Black smoke still falls around his legs. More ghostly then corporeal.  

Genji growls, allowing it to echo bravely. Her fingers itch to pull him away, but she keeps her stance tall.

Her parents’ image blooms softly in her mind. For years, they kept war at bay and peace within their kingdom. If asked, her father and mother would have given their lives for her, for their people.

She would give it now, for him, and everyone else.

“I will never be an instrument of destruction for you.” 

The Empress keeps her gaze steady upon the god of death. He looks back, almost amused if not for the sudden, silent anger creeping upon his red irises. He steps forward, off the altar. A growl jumps out of Genji’s throat in warning.

“Stay back,” he warns with ice and steel.

The god does not slow his pace. Genji moves his paws, tensing his legs before lunging through the air.

“No!” Angela cries as his maw reaches for his throat. The god of death moves his hand with ease, knocking Genji back with an invisible power that leaves him tumbling against the floor. The great tiger does not move upon the temple ground. Her hand reaches out to him, paralyzed with sudden fear when the white on his fur begins crawling upon his sides steadily. Right before her eyes. Angela only breathes when she sees the gentle fall of his belly giving away signs of life.

“He only sleeps, Empress,” the god of death says. Angela steps back, feeling the energy of power strike in her teeth and bones until her back hits the wall. His presence seems to poison her very lungs.

“You, however, are still here, and defying me.” Harsh anger lashes against her cheeks as he looms above her. “Do you not fear death?”

She keeps her chin high as she trembles. A child shaking in the face of certain doom. 

“I fear it. I fear it for my people as well. I won’t let them know you.” At that, she swallows roughly. She may as well as spit upon his feet for her words are only insulting. It is a miracle in itself that she is not dead yet.

The god’s red irises give her no relief.

“Make war, Empress, in my name. Create it in any form, and I will bless you beyond measure in power, gifts, and immortality.”

The god’s gaze shifts, slowly straying to look at the unconscious form of the tiger. Now, half his body is patched white. His breaths are still raising his belly up and down.

“Make war, Empress, or I will take everything away from you.”

Her mouth holds no liquid. The air in her lungs shakes her rib cage with tremendous force. Genji is alive, for now, but the god of death threatens his life. Her people in a needless war, her soldiers fighting in the name of a cruel god, her Genji, still alive but trapped in the daylight, all at her choice.

She does not fear death as much as she fears woe and misery at the hands of it. Its pain has already ruined her soul once.  

“No,” she breathes.

Her very soul shakes in the light of his blood eyes. Slowly, the god’s brow narrows as he reaches for her. She doesn’t flinch as he touches a stand of hair, now completely raven in color. The quill of a feather slides against her scalp among her looped locks. Stilling her own breath, the Empress watches the god of death retract his hand, turn, and disappear into wisps of black smoke.

She gasps out. The energy in the temple returns to what is only mortal. Alone now, her hand reaches out to the tiger while the other clutches her own heart.

“Genji,” her voice falters. Fear and worry flood her once strong tongue. She takes one step forward just as he raises his head, and falls to the ground.

“Angela,” he cries, jumping to his paws and circling her. She doesn’t move.

His head pushes against her shoulder as her weak breath touches his ears. The Empress is stunned. A deep fright moves Genji to lower himself beside her. Edging her arm over his back, he clasps her arm gently between his jaws. He pulls the Empress onto his back with a turn of his head while getting to his paws. Steadying her, the tiger rushes out of the temple. The Empress drapes over his now white fur. Her own black hair falls against his shoulder blades.

Somehow, four vermilion feathers stay in her hair loops.

* * *

Another bucket is full of red bile. Night is falling, and she sends the physicians away for the moment. They leave a clean bucket in place of the tainted one, and bow to the Empress lying in her bed. She is left alone in her room besides the tiger. 

Genji paces on agitated paws. Only the fur on his head remains orange, while the rest of him is now black and white. When the last of the sunlight dies, her warrior appears in silver armor and white decorated fur.

His helmet comes off immediately. She can hardly move her mouth to ask him to come to her, but he busies with removing every piece of armor on his body. It’s the first time she’s ever seen him without all of the god’s gifts adoring him in silver.

Black hair sticks back upon his head. She would smile if not for the heavy emotion weighing his features down. Kneeling at her bedside, he takes her hand between his. 

Genji carried her from the temple. After he got her to her castle, physicians and the royal guard flooded her presence. There is very little they can do against the effects the god of death leaves upon mortals. Her hair falls into her eyes, black as the celestial space above, and earning Genji’s fearful gaze. It is as if all the strength has left her limbs, and her skin grows pale. There is nothing she can keep in her stomach, save for the taste of blood on her tongue when she vomits. 

“Angela,” his words ghost against her knuckles. “The gods can’t take you from… they can’t take you. You have done nothing deserving of death.”

His lips press against her hand. It takes the strength of moving mountains to squeeze his fingers in turn. Pain writhes inside her torso, threatening to cut every piece of her. 

“Let me take the feathers from you, please,” his voice breaks into a wrangled whisper. “I swore to be your warrior, let me take this wrath and anguish.”

This illness won’t lift from her limbs until she is either dead, or beginning a war of bloodlust. She wants to reach out and stroke his hair. Her fingers ache to trace his freed jawline, but death’s grip pins her down. Dry lips fail to move and tell him this. The feathers still remain in her hair, spread about the pillow she lies against. It is too late to undone her decisions. If she dies because of her refusal to begin war, then it will be.

The softest shake of her head moves against the pillow. Closing her eyes to Genji’s soul piercing irises, she swallows roughly.

Prayers silently echo in her chest. Prayers for Genji and her people. They will have to find another ruler if the gods decide to take her. Genji… she only prays that her little time as Empress is enough to let him walk upright in the day.

She breathes out harshly, earning Genji’s gentle murmur. His head bows to her hand, angry for one moment at her refusal before getting to his feet. Searching her eyes, she speaks through them. He listens, and moves silently onto her bed. He knows when she needs his comfort.

Her eyes close as he slips beside her under the blankets. What poisons her body won’t harm him. Easing her head gently against him, his arms wrap around her waist. His lips touch against her cheek, her temple. Soft and desperate touches of fear and protection. His strong fingers trace through her hair of raven and down to her cheek. The soothing motion of his skin trailing against hers creates soft breaths within her lungs. Against the pain boiling inside her torso, his touch relieves her.

“Angela,” he says her name like it’s the presence of heaven itself. “Tell me what to do to save you.”

He is safe. Even when the sun claims him as a tiger, and his fur turns white, he is still whole. There is no blood or bruises on his skin. There is no pain that ordinates from anything but the sight of her illness.

Her Genji is still safe.

Her warrior cannot save her from her crown and duty of peace.

She closes her eyes while Genji’s breath tremble against her skin. His arms clutch her tighter, as if she might slip away from him. A tear of anguish slips under her eyelid, staining her cheek until Genji kisses it away.

“Angela,” he begs.

She only enjoys the comfort of his body beside hers.

* * *

Somehow, they sleep. Genji rarely does so, especially when watching over her but in her bed, he breathes softly. His limbs surround her, as if still anxious of losing her in the middle of the night. Angela wakes before dawn breaks across her kingdom. Her body burns, and her insides twist in aching circles, but she still breathes.

“Empress,” a voice speaks, earning her half open gazed across her room. A young woman stands in a skirt of pink and a shirt of blue. Her sleeves run in colorful stripes down her arms, and brown bangs touch above her eyes. Pink marks her cheeks as the young woman smiles at her.

“You are unwell, Empress,” the young woman speaks, coming to her bedside. There is no fear of a god in her chest, but Angela knows the presence of one.

“He worries for you deeply, as if his own life is at risk.” The young woman’s gaze slips to the man holding her. Angela can hardly move, much less turn to look upon Genji. Her dry lips part, but they only breathe out harsh, painful breaths.

“Empress, I can give both of you comfort. This illness will be as if it never existed. Your love will be at your side. You both will not know pain or illness or death.”

The young woman looks over the feathers still among her black hair.

“I only ask for your crown.”

Angela’s half open gaze stays upon the young woman. Her hair falls into a braid of brown locks, and she seems to be just out of childhood but stands before her with supernatural grace.

To give up her kingdom, for her and Genji’s sake. To give up her people’s love and duty, for the promise of safety.

For one, soul breaking moment, she longs to whisper yes. Her heart bares aching worry and fear. She cannot save her people, she is not fit to keep the peace, Genji needs someone to break his curse. How can she do that alone? How can she defy the gods and every violent force apposing her again and again?

It all threatens to break her. 

Genji’s breath still brushes against her hair. Her mother’s crown rested upon her head when she sat at her throne. The peace of her kingdom still continues at her hands.

She is the Empress.

Angela shakes her head slowly against the pillow with her little, remaining strength. The young woman smiles.

“You have endured our trials, Empress,” she says, drawing forth another vermilion feather. The hue as different as the rest. The young woman folds her arms, feather still in hand, and bows her head to her weak, lying form.

The young woman straightens, and approaches her bed. Angela meekly breathes as the young woman stands above her with supernatural grace. 

“This blessing will serve you and everything you hold dear. You are worthy of it, Empress, just as your warrior is worthy of his blessing.”

Her brow crinkles the smallest amount, longing to ask her meaning of the blessing she speaks. Carefully, the young woman leans over her, and tucks the quill into her hair.

“The Vermillion Bird and White Tiger live in both of you now.”

Warmth overwhelms her body. The weakness in her limbs and the pain in her body evaporates. Angela gasps quietly. A rush of strength lets her sit up and leave Genji’s arms behind. Standing on her own feet, hot blood and fire dances through her veins.

The young woman is gone. Upon her black hair, feathers hold flames. They travel down her skin and against her simple night gown. It burns the cloth away, leaving fine fabric and jewelry in its wake. Upon her back, the flames arise, burning as the sun takes her Genji from his human form.

She turns to him as the tiger wakes. White now decorates his entire fur. The tiger rises upon the bed, staring in awe and fright at the Empress of fire and feathers.

“Genji,” she says, echoing with a voice belonging to the gods themselves. “Come.”

He obeys. Prowling to her feet, she kneels as the tiger reaches her red form. Her hands take his maw, holding his sepia irises for one precious moment.

Her flames of feathers move, gracing his beastly form in heat and red. In a melting light of red and vermilion, a man in the armor and fur of a tiger kneels with her. She holds only his helmet now, and the flames upon her back slowly pull away from him. Her warrior grasps her wrists as she still clutches him.

Sunlight dusts her face. Slowly, his fingers rise to her cheeks and brush the warmth against her skin. A slow, choked breath leaves his lungs. Lifting his helmet away, she takes his face once again in her hands.

The light falls against his beautiful scars. His eyelids close against it as his fingers squeeze her wrists tightly. For one breathless moment, they both laugh and cry.

“My Empress,” he gasps, “My Empress.”

A soft noise of joy slips out of her throat as tears fall from her cheeks. Both their smiles hold as they grasp onto the other. Genji presses his forehead against hers, still gasping against her cheek as she clutches him. His lips grace her skin, warm and human and still with her in the morning light.

His hand slowly slip from her wrists and to her torso. Pulling her close, they collapse against each other in tight holds and trembling fingers moving through the other’s hair. Words shake on lips pressing against cheekbones. Tears flow form Angela’s eyes and laughter shakes Genji’s throat. There is only them in existence. There is only their victory of still standing together, whole and well.

She kisses him. She kisses him again, as if noting the taste of the rivers and steel upon her tongue are still true in the daylight.

“Genji,” she whispers softly into his hair, “Marry me.”

* * *

The gods finished their trials. An Empress of absolute virtue and peace carries five vermilion feathers in her black hair. When times become wicked, a vermilion bird takes to the skies with a white tiger in her wake. There is little sickness, and little violence. The kingdom overflows with the blessings of their Empress.

Some believe the gods blessed the Empress and her new husband with the bird and tiger to watch over them. Because of her virtue, the gods granted her gifts of flames and ice. However, the price of her blessings was turning her hair black as raven’s claws. The tiger that was once at the Empress’s side is never seen at her throne again, but a white beast is always running underneath the wingspan of a vermilion bird. Others believe that the white tiger now guards the Empress’s entire kingdom along with the feathered fire creature. 

In a dress of flames, and feathers in her hair, the Empress protects her kingdom with peace. The Emperor at her side wears silver armor, and a helmet of a tiger with white fur. They are bound together. The Empress and Emperor never know illness, or weakness. The land does not know violence, or want. Their hands hold each other’s as they pray.

The sun never takes Genji away from Angela again. When they both chose, fire and ice erupt to help them move swiftly in righteousness across the kingdom. Angela heals with her feathers of flames, and Genji protects with claws and fangs of ice.

When dawn falls upon her face and wakes Angela, she still stays in Genji’s arms. He opens his eyes, framed in scars and warmth. Sepia irises still pierce her heart.

“My Empress,” he speaks with adoration. His cheek presses into the space between her shoulder and throat. Tender lips press into her skin. 

They stand, and ready for the day. Before they enter their court and sit upon their thrones, he falls to one knee. His fingers take her hand. Soft, familiar lips touch against her knuckles.

“Why must you always do that?” she asks, holding a soft smile.

“Because you are my Empress,” he speaks against her fingers, placing another gentle kiss to her hand.

Her lips part in a light tease.

“As you are my Emperor.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please R&R! It helps me out a lot ♥


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